


You Could be Great in Slytherin

by Kae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Slytherin!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kae/pseuds/Kae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Harry doesn't meet Ron on the train. He doesn't have any preconceived notions about Slytherin house before the hat is put on his head. The hat sorts him into Slytherin. Greatness awaits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brotherly Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up, some of the main events might be a bit out of order.

“C’mon, Fred! Mum said I was supposed to sit with you until we got to school!”

“Oh, did she? Is little Wonald too scared to find a compartment for himself?”

“Everywhere else is full! George, c’mon, people are staring!”

“I’m not George, he is!”

“WHATEVER! Okay, fine, just fine! If I get killed by some Slytherin wackjob it’s on your hands and Mum’ll never forgive you!”

Ron stormed off, as well as he could while dragging his trunk. He’d gotten about 2 more compartments full of laughing students (with not-frayed robes, he might add) down when Lee Jordan came running after him. 

“C’mon little guy, they’re just pulling your tail, you can sit with us.”

“No. I’m not going back. They’ll just laugh at me.”

“Yeah, well that’s what big brothers are for.”

“You don’t need to tell _me_ that, I’ve got a slew of them.” Ron pouted.

“Well, suit yourself, but watch out for them Slytherins - between you and me, they’re all wackjobs.” Ron gulped.

“What are you doing outside your compartment with your trunk? Trunks are supposed to be stored by 5 minutes before the train starts, Ronald, you have no excuse because I know I’ve mentioned this very rule at home.”

Lee and Ron looked at each other. Percy. Ron rolled his eyes.

“It’s not my fault! Fred and George aren’t letting me in.” Ron glared over at them.

“No, we said he could come in now,” Lee corrected.

“Whatever, just get that trunk up before it hurts somebody,” Percy stalked off, nose at a funny angle pointing upwards. Lee sniggered. 

“Gosh I can’t believe you’re related to _that.”_

“You’re tellin’ me.” 

Lee helped Ron drag the heavy trunk back to his compartment, where Fred and George were all too happy to rant about Percy being a pompous prat and completely forgot about teasing Ron.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Three hands with ugly, crumpled sandwiches flew into the air. 

“We’re all set,” said Fred, George, and Ron in unison. 

“I’ll get a pumpkin pasty,” said Lee, grinning evilly. Fred and George grumbled as they could smell it. Lee didn’t give them one bite and make exaggerated sounds of enjoyment until Fred clocked him on his shoulder. 

“Alright, alright, just a bit of fun, no reason to get testy,” Lee smirked. He wasn’t rich himself, but enjoyed their start-of-year ritual of coveting his treat. 


	2. Sorting

In another compartment, a dark-haired boy sat by himself. 

“Anything from the trolley, dear?

Harry looked up, startled. He’d been staring out the window vacantly, lost in his thoughts. He stared at the trolley. Things were _moving_. It looked like it was supposed to be food, but...food didn’t _behave_ like that.

“Uh...no thanks.” His stomach grumbled. He was starving.

“Muggle born? Ah, try a pumpkin pasty, nothing magic about them but how good they taste.” The trolley-lady winked. 

“I’ll take two, how much?”

“That’s two of the silver ones and three of the bronze ones,” she said helpfully. She’d had a lot of experience working on the train, and was always kind to the muggle-born’s who were so bewildered by this new world they’d stumbled into. She smiled at him fondly as Harry gazed confusedly at his handful of coin. He paid and ate gratefully, looking back out the window as the train chugged along.

 

“Have you seen a toad?” a girl asked shortly. Harry jumped again. 

“Uh..no?”

“Right. If you see one, Neville’s looking for his. Four compartments down on the left.” Then she was gone with a whirl of her robes. Harry almost wished he had seen the toad so he could have a reason to talk to them. 

“Hold on - you’re Harry Potter.” The girl had come back.

“That’s right.” Harry straightened in his seat. “I am, what of it?”

“You’re famous.”

“So I keep hearing.”

“I’m Hermione Granger, it’s terrible what He-who-must-not-be-named did to your parents. To everyone, really. Tragedy. Though I suppose I don’t understand the magnitude of it, as I’ve only read about it. My parents are muggles, so I’ve only just learned about the existence of everything magic. Well I need to find Neville’s toad, pleased to make your acquaintance. You’d better get into your school robes, we’re getting close now.” She shook his hand sharply and was gone again. 

Harry was pleased to see Hagrid when the train pulled in, although he was a bit miffed at him for leaving him not knowing how to get to the platform. He’d been worried he wouldn’t be able to catch the train on time, but he’d hid and watched a red-haired family run through a wall, and, although it seemed ridiculous and he felt like he was going to run straight into the wall and be gravely injured, he passed through into the platform. But by that time they were gone, and no one had said two words to him until the trolley-lady. 

Harry hovered around Hagrid as the large man organized the first-years. He went on a boat with Hagrid and a blonde girl who stared dreamily at everything in lieu of making conversation. To tell the truth, he was too in awe to care - the castle was gorgeous! And he was going to go to school there! And be a wizard! He felt giddy, it was like a dream come true.

The first-years were gathered by a staircase and the word 'sorting' was thrown around a lot, but he couldn't make anything else out in the din. A tall, stately woman - witch, he supposed - walked in and demanded silence by her very presence. Only the strictest teachers at his old "muggle" school were responded to with that level of respect. He would have to watch out for her. Harry looked up with apprehension. Professor McGonagall explained that they would be sorted into houses. The boy called Neville loudly found his toad (to her disapproval), and then she left again. A blonde boy appeared on Harry's right and stuck his hand out.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"I'm-"

"No need to introduce yourself, Potter, I know who you are. I'm not dumb. This here’s Crabbe, Goyle." He nodded his head back at two heavy-set boys that reminded Harry vaguely of smaller Dudley’s, as though he'd split himself in two just to follow Harry to school. Harry was a bit wary of the confident blond boy, but he didn't want to be rude to the second person who had talked to him, so he shook his hand. 

"Nice to meet you Mal- Draco?" Harry got confused about which name to use, which made the boy grin. Harry smiled awkwardly. He felt a bit intimidated, but the boy was being friendly enough. 

Then they were ushered into the "Great Hall," which certainly was great. Harry found himself looking up and around more than anything. He figured he must look a bit like the blonde girl in the boat, but he didn't care. There were floating candles! And the 

ceiling looked like the sky! Soon he saw what the witch had meant by sorting - a magical old hat was put on the first-year’s heads, shouted out a word Harry had never heard before, and depending on which word it was, they walked towards a different table that cheered. 

The names were called alphabetically, and Harry saw the girl from the train, Hermione Granger, get sorted into "Ravenclaw," the Neville boy who had found his toad (with the unfortunate last name of Longbottom) was sorted into Gryffindor, and 

the blond boy Malfoy get sorted into Slytherin.

A general hubbub of chatter had grown on the tables, and though people were cheering for each new sorted first-year, it wasn't the only sound. Harry heard his own name come up in the chatter, but never figured out what they were saying. He guessed it was because he was 'famous'. He didn't really like it, but it seemed to be the only reason people would talk to him. If he hadn't, the Hermione girl would have just left, and Draco wouldn't have introduced himself. Harry guessed it had it's pros and cons.

When his own name was called, everyone went silent. His legs were a bit wobbly as he walked forwards to sit under the hat.

"Hm, difficult. Very difficult." Harry tried not to be scared of the voice talking in his head. "Brave, oh you'd do well in Gryffindor, hm... But you could be great in Slytherin..." 

"I wouldn't mind being great" Harry thought. 

"Then it's settled - Slytherin!" the hat called out. 

The green table roared louder than they had for anyone else. Harry walked towards the green table, unsure of where to sit until he caught the eye of the blond boy, who smiled with an air of pride. Harry smiled back and sat next to him. He looked out - the next name was called, and attention drifted from him. He caught the eye of the girl with large hair from the train, Hermione, he repeated, hopefully to avoid the "sorry I forgot your name" conversation. She gave him a small smile. He smiled back.


	3. Gryffindor Table

"Wow, Harry Potter a Slytherin. Seems a bit ironic, eh, Fred?"

"Sure does George, sure does."

"Does that mean he'll be a dark wizard like-like you-know-who?"

"Maybe, Ron. Watch out, looks like first-years got potions with the Slytherin’s, he might try to kill you. And Snape won’t life a finger to help you."

"Why'd he kill me?"

"Why do evil people kill? Why do I have a git like Percy for a brother? It's a question for the ages." George sighed dramatically, then the 3 older boys launched into a conversation about the Gryffindor quidditch team and people Ron didn't know about. He looked at the dark-haired boy over at the slytherin table. He didn't look evil, just a bit uncomfortable and bewildered. The boy on his left did, though. Real evil. Ron was not looking forward to that potions lesson.

 

 

 


	4. Mudblood

The descent to the Slytherin common room was unpleasant. Harry saw other tables climbing stairs and felt envious. It reminded him of his cupboard to be without windows. Unlike his cupboard though, it was very luxurious. There was a lot of green and silver decoration, and tapestries of a snake in the shape of an S that seemed to be the insignia for Slytherin. Harry sat with Draco. Crabbe and Goyle were there too, but they didn't feel like entities. They were very silent, except to laugh or growl. Harry hated to think it, but he thought Dudley might have been smarter than these two.

"So how about the quidditch teams? Looks like we've got flying lessons in the morning. Ha. As though I need them. I bet I could fly circles around most second-years, but they don't let first-years have brooms."

"Sorry, what's quidditch? Flying?"

"Broomsticks? What you live under a rock Potter?"

"Under the stairs, actually. I lived with my uncle and aunt. They're muggles."

"God, I don't envy you. That must've been hell. Muggles...they’re like animals, ignorant of how things _really_ work. Think, famous Harry Potter stuck under some bloody muggle’s stairs!" Draco laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, Crabbe and Goyle joining in a split second later. Harry strongly suspected they didn't know what was funny. Frankly, he didn't really either.

"Its almost like you're a mudblood, without actually being one of course."

"Whats a mudblood?"

"Its when a muggle family has a witch or wizard in it. So they say. But my father doesn’t believe in it, says they shouldn’t have the status of witch or wizard, should just learn simple spells, and definitely not in the same school..." But Harry wasn’t listening to him anymore, he was talking too:

"Oh, like the girl on the train. So there'll be loads of other people who don't already know everything, like me!" Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but Draco looked panicked. 

"You don't want to associate with them, Potter. They're not good people. You lived with muggles, you know how awful they are."

"My aunt and uncle were awful, yes. So was my cousin. Come to think of it, nearly everyone at school was awful. But some people were nice, only, I wasn’t allowed to spend time with them because they were “hippies” or something.”

“What’s a hippie?”

“I don’t really know, but Uncle Vernon hated them.”

“Well you’re here now, and mudbloods never get into Slytherin. We’re _elite_. I’m so glad you were sorted here, Potter.”

“Me too.” Harry smiled at Draco, who smirked back. 

Harry’d thought he’d have trouble sleeping that night, but when the lights were out in the dormitories it was pitch black like his cupboard at the Dursley’s. He wished they were above ground, so he’d have a window to look out at his new home, but he drifted off almost immediately, despite Draco’s snoring. It squeaked, and Harry dreamed of mice frantically running. Away from what, he didn’t remember.


	5. We Ain't Afraid of Nothin'

“Flying lessons?” Ron puzzled over his time-table.

“Oh, the good old days of first year when we couldn’t fly circles around a stationary pole!” Fred reminisced.

“It’s a thing for first-years, to see if they can’t train someone good to die on the quidditch field.” George explained helpfully. 

“Die?” Ron said with increasing agitation. “Hold up, is this like when you said I’d have to fight a dragon to get sorted? Because that didn’t happen, it was just a hat you prat!”

Fred and George roared with laughter at their joke. Lee walked in, fiddling with the buttons on his robes.

“Nope, kid, this isn’t like that. People die in professional quidditch all the time. You know that. There’s no reason it can’t happen here, just that it hasn’t yet. Some people’ve disappeared, shown up months later in places with no memory, but no one’s died yet.” Ron gulped.

“And we’ve got it with the Slytherin’s!” cried another first-year from across the common room. He looked terrified. Ron started to follow suit.

“Come on, children, buck up. This is Gryffindor you dolts! We ain’t afraid of nothin’! Not Slytherins, not flying, not Harry Potter himself, who you’ll be facing out in your flying lesson while we stay all cozy in our classrooms. Now shoo or you’ll be late for your doom!” Fred encouraged them dramatically. 

“Nice speech, Fred. I couldn’t have done it better myself,” said George. And together they whisked the first-years out the portrait-hole, whether they were ready or not.

“Where are the first-years?” asked Percy, as he came down from the dormitories with his prefect’s badge carefully placed in the perfect prefect spot.

“We sent them on their merry way, the little tykes. So excited for their first flying lessons with the Slytherin’s, bless their hearts,” George sighed, with his hand over his heart.

“What?!” Percy yelped, and darted out the portrait hole after them. Luckily most of the first-years had been too dazed to go far, and he rounded them up and directed the ones who weren’t ready to go back inside to get their things, and never to ever listen to anything said by Fred or George Weasley.

They trooped onto the quidditch pitch twenty minutes late for their flying lesson.

“I expected better of you, Percy,” said Madame Hooch. “The Slytherin’s were five minutes early for their lesson, and a good number of them have already been able to raise their brooms.” She pointed at Harry and Draco, who had been the first, along with a few other Slytherin first-years, who’s had just risen.


	6. Remember all

Draco had been astounded when Harry’s broom rose before his did. 

“Wow, and you’ve never even heard of quidditch?”

“Nope. And I don’t know what to do with it now it’s off the ground, either.” Harry said.

“Well looks like you’re a natural,” said Draco, a bit smugly, but still wishing he had been first of the class rather than second. “I’d bet when we’re both on the Slytherin quidditch team next year. Gryffindor’ll never have the cup again!” Draco grinned, thinking of winning and being recognized.

“Cup?” Harry asked.

“There’s quidditch teams for each house, and they play each other all year for the cup, and whoever wins gets to have it in their common room. Gryffindor won last year, but now we’re here, and when we’re allowed on teams next year, Gryffindor won’t stand a chance!” 

Harry grinned. It would be wonderful. He didn’t have the same assurance Draco did, as he still didn’t know what quidditch was or how to play it, but it was a nice thought all the same. And that didn’t stop his mind whispering ‘maybe.’ If he was on a winning quidditch team, people would like him, rather than just whisper about him. He would prove he could be someone important, rather than just someone who did something as a baby he couldn’t even remember. 

“Oh, look, it’s the Gryffindor’s now,” Draco sneered. “Late, think they’re better than us and can just come and go as they please.”

Harry looked up and saw a red-haired older boy talking to Madame Hooch. He did look a little pompous, Harry had to admit, although it looked like he was pleading. The boy kept running his hand through his hair nervously. Harry hadn’t known it was possible to plead pompously. 

He scanned the group of Gryffindor first-years. _They_ didn’t look particularly pompous. In fact a lot of them looked apprehensive - especially the boy Harry recognized as Neville. Neville was placed in front of them. 

“Hi Neville,” Harry said, tapping him on the shoulder. Neville jumped.

“H-hi? Do I know you?”

“No, well, Hermione was telling me about your toad. I was on toad look out on the train. I’m glad you found it.”

“Me too, his name’s Trevor.” Neville said nervously. “He’s always running off.” Neville wouldn’t look directly at Harry, his eyes kept flickering away.

“How come you guys were so late?” Harry asked.

“Wanted to make an entrance, I assume.” Malfoy said cooly. He’d had enough of being left out and ignored, especially as the person he was being ignored for was a Gryffindor. Not being famous himself, at least, not yet, he had to be content with being the centre of the famous person’s attention. It irked him to have that disappear, even for a moment.

“N-no, I-I don’t think so...” Neville stuttered. Eyes flickering wildly.

“Think they’re better than us. Don’t listen to their lies Harry. Everyone knows Gryffindor’s combust if they can’t be the centre of attention.” The irony of this statement, being said to get the attention redirected to himself, was not lost on him. But it would be lost on everyone else, he’d make sure of it.

Harry thought Neville looked the exact opposite of wanting to be the centre of attention. The boy looked like he would very much like to disappear as he grew redder and redder. 

“Now boys, that’s enough chatter. It’s good that you’re making friends, but _some_ of you still haven’t raised your broomsticks.” Madame Hooch said sternly - but not unkindly, Harry thought. There was none of Aunt Petunia’s intentional malice in her manner. As Neville busied himself ordering his contrary broom to come up, Harry turned to his house-mate.

“Draco, you haven’t even been here more than two days. How do you know what Gryffindor’s are like?”

“My father came here, and his father before him, and his father before him.” Malfoy sniffed, sticking his nose in the air pointedly, as though defending himself from an attack on his character. 

“Well I don’t know anything about my parents, if they came here, and I think I’ll make my mind up for myself rather than take the word of your father. Some of them might be pompous, but right now you seem a little pompous too, so it probably evens out.” Harry shrugged. 

“Me? Pompous?” Malfoy gasped, wordless with indignation. No one talked to him like that. _No one._ Not even Potter. He would show him. He would. Rage built on his tongue, but he couldn’t afford to outwardly attack Potter. He knew how to be a sycophant when it suited him. If Harry was against him, he would be half as popular as he could be, and wield significantly less power, especially as they were in the same house. He would _own_ this school. Just as his father had. They’d see. Now, to the problem of Potter’s loyalties...

“Right, now you’ve all managed to raise your broomsticks. Now, mount them.” Madam Hooch called out. Malfoy seethed with anger as he swung a practiced leg over his broom. While Harry was focused on getting his leg over his broomstick, Malfoy kicked the back end of Neville’s so he swung off balance, teetering precariously on one leg, while the other was halfway over his broom.

“Now you’ve mounted, one by one I’d like you to raise three feet into the air, and then come back down. If you’re- no! Get back down here this instant!”

Off-balance, Neville had clung to the only thing available - his broom - which mistook his frantic scrambling for a desire to fly, and had taken off with him still clinging to it sideways. 

“I-I would if I could, Madame Hooch, but I don’t know how!” he cried, as the broom whisked him around in circles, as his sideways state was taken to mean he wanted a sharp turn. To the amazement of the students below, Neville’s circles spun wider and higher until he went flying off of the broom to tumble to the ground nearly eight feet below. The confused old broom went on spinning, and flung off out of sight.

While most of the students focused on Neville, Malfoy had seen something shiny glint from his pocket and fall to the ground near him. As the rest of the class swarmed towards the heap of robes that was Neville, Malfoy snatched up the clear, spherical object and put it in his pocket.

“Back away, back away!” Madame Hooch called out. The students scattered, tittering. She bent over Neville, who was moaning in pain.

“Oh, it’s just a broken arm and wrist, you’ll be fine. It could have been much worse, you taking off like that without training,” she chided sternly. “Up you get, hospital wing for you. Won’t take a day to heal that, and you can come to the flying lesson next week and I’ll have an older student on detention help you catch up, how’s that?” She helped him up as she chatted, trying to take his mind off his injury, but Neville just sobbed. 

“Keep your feet firmly planted on the ground!” Madame Hooch shouted loud enough for the students near her to cover their ears. “I’m taking Mr.Longbottom here to the hospital wing, and if I find any of you with so much as a leg over your brooms you’ll be expelled before you can say ‘quidditch!’”

Once she was inside and out of earshot, Malfoy decided it was time to gloat.

“Look what I found,” he said casually, rolling the sphere in his hands and smirking.

“That’s Neville’s rememberal!” Called out one of the boys from Gryffindor, another with red hair. Harry half-wondered if there was a connection between hair colour and house assignment. There seemed to be a lot of dark-haired Ravenclaws and blond Slytherins.

“What’s a rememberal?” Harry asked the boy, who was next to him as he had run after Neville with the Gryffindor’s while the Slytherin’s had hung back.

“It gets cloudy when you’ve forgotten something, real useful for forgetful people. Neville was joking this morning that it would only be perfect if it would tell him what he forgot.”

“I’ll take it to him, Draco.” Harry said helpfully as he walked forwards. He wondered why the Gryffindor’s looked so on edge. Shouldn’t they be glad Draco found it? It looked fragile, as though a misstep could have broken it into pieces. 

“Nah, I think I’ve got a better idea,” Malfoy smirked, tossing the rememberal up and catching it. He would show Potter what happened to people who crossed him. His new friend wouldn’t be hanging around the Gryffindor boy after this. Pompous! Him! he sneered. 

Harry gaped as his friend rose on his broomstick.

“NO! No you shouldn’t do that!” came a familiar female voice from the doorway. Harry turned and saw Hermoine’s large hair bobbing as she ran towards them.

“Madame Hooch isn’t here, I heard her say you weren’t to fly! You’ll be expelled!”

“Oh boo-hoo. I’m not going to get expelled unless some know-it-all like you tells. And if I do I know exactly who’s fault it is.” Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles in unison for emphasis, as though they’d choreographed it in advance. Harry half-wondered if they had. Malfoy tossed the rememberal up again and caught it.

“Draco, don’t, you’ll break it! Just give it here,” Harry tried again.

“Nah.” Malfoy shrugged and rose a few feet. “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for the oaf to find - maybe in a tree!” 

“I’m warning you, Malfoy,” Harry said darkly. 

“What are you gonna do, Potter? Come after me? You don’t even know how to fly!” Malfoy laughed, and flew a bit higher.

Harry stepped over his broom, and without thinking much beyond ‘I need to get there from here,’ he flew up to Malfoy’s level. 

“I guess I’m a natural.”

“No, Harry, don’t!” Hermione cried. “You’re going to get expelled!” But at the moment, Harry didn’t care. He just knew that Neville was only getting punished because he wouldn’t ignore the Gryffindor’s and he told Draco he was being pompous, and that if he didn’t get the rememberal back he would be responsible. 

“You’ll have to catch me, Potter!” Malfoy called out, gleefully. He spun in a quick turn and darted up and out from the group of first-years. 

Without even thinking about it, Harry followed. They spun around the stands and hoops to the amazement and worry of those watching below. 

Malfoy realized with panic that he was being outflown. 

“Fine, catch it then.” He pulled up sharply and tossed it with all his might at the school, and flew back down. He landed in a huff and stalked back to the school, people darting out of his way. Crabbe and Goyle dithered for a minute before deciding they were to follow him, and then raced after their friend. 

“Leave me alone, idiots,” Malfoy sneered when he heard them coming after him. Hurt, they turned back to the group. They didn’t see that he was crying because he hadn’t turned his head. He walked quickly to the basement near the Slytherin common room, but didn’t go in. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him cry, not even older kids who didn’t know him. _Tears are weakness, and weakness is something we exploit, not exhibit, stupid boy._ He growled in anger, and darted down a dark, empty corridor. He punched the cold, hard stone wall. Then he hit it again. And again. And again.


	7. “But, regrettably, Minerva, he is in my house, not yours"

Back in the quidditch pitch, Harry was hurtling towards the rememberal. While half of him felt guilty for Neville and angry, hurt, and confused at Malfoy’s actions, the other half was completely exhilarated by the fact that he was _flying_. It felt as easy as breathing, but a thousand times better and just as necessary. As he pulled out of a dive with the rememberal in his hand, he couldn’t help a grin from spreading across his face. When he landed, the group of first-years cheered - except a number of Slytherin’s who looked around uncomfortably as though they weren’t sure if they were allowed to be pleased. This group, however, was small, and Harry was preoccupied with the much larger group that was cheering for him. Hermione ran at him and hugged him, much to his surprise.

“I thought you were going to get caught! Don’t do anything this stupid again!” she chided, fondly. 

“Potter, please follow me.” Silence fell instantly. Harry looked up to see Professor McGonagall looking at them sternly from the doorway. Scared eyes followed him as he walked forwards, his heart beating uncomfortably in his chest. He was going to get expelled. He had just found his home, just found what he needed more than breathing, and it was all to be taken away.

“I’m sorry professor, just let me explain, Malfoy-”

“Sorry, Potter, this is out of my hands.” He fell silent and hoped desperately that whoever’s hands it was in would be kind.

They walked down to the basement, near the Slytherin common room, but not quite. There was a classroom with a lot of strange scents coming from it. Professor McGonagall knocked on the door. 

“I’m sorry to disturb your class, Severus, but I have an important student matter to discuss.”

“Can it not wait, Minerva? These potions are very delicate, and I’m afraid these imbeciles will spoil them if I don’t keep my eye on them every moment.”

“No, Severus, I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.”

“Very well. Keep your eyes on the clock and be extremely attentive to detail. Don’t skip steps or the potion will burn through your caldrons and if you touch it you will die an excruciatingly painful death. No talking.”

A tall man with dark, greasy hair and flowing robes stalked out of the classroom and shut the door with a snap.

“Yes, Minerva, what is it?”

“It’s Potter.”

“What about him?”

“He was flying after Madame Hooch left to take an injured student to the hospital wing-”

“Then he is to be expelled, good day Minerva.”

“That is not the whole story, Severus.”

“Fine, proceed.”

“He caught this,” she held up Neville’s rememberal, “after another of your students stole it from a Gryffindor student and threw it. After a fifty foot dive.”

“Fine, he is expelled and a few points are taken from Slytherin. _What_ is it Minerva?”

“He was helping another student, I do not think he deserves to be expelled! And after that dive - if only he were in Gryffindor, I would put him on the quidditch team immediately-”

“But, regrettably, Minerva, he is in my house, and not yours, and you do not have the authority to put him on either quidditch team. I see fit to appeal to the headmaster for his expulsion immediately, and see no relevance of the _skill_ of his transgressions, only the fact that he has broken school rules and must be therefore punished, like any other student. Surely, you do not expect me to give him special treatment simply because of his _fame.”_

Professor McGonagall drew herself up to her full height. “I will not let you expel this boy for a good deed that should be rewarded, not punished. If you insist on going to the headmaster, we can do so together.” She grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him along rather quicker than he could keep up as she turned multiple corridors and up staircases that moved in parts of the castle Harry had not yet seen. By the time they reached the headmaster’s office, Harry was gasping for breath.

“Albus, Severus is coming to request Potter’s expulsion, but I believe Potter was protecting another student-”

“Minerva this is my house, and not your jurisdiction. Please vacate the headmaster’s office, I have a matter of delicacy to discuss.”

“Like flobberworm you are!”

“Minerva!” Dumbledore stood up, and the two professors looked chastened. 

"Harry, what happened?" Professor Dumbledore asked softly, leaning over his desk to look at Harry. "Tell me the truth, just as it happened. Don't try to put yourself in a better light. Alright?"

Harry nodded.

"Neville was in front of me and Draco. Suddenly, his broom took off. h-his rememberal went flying and-andithoughtitwasgoingtosmashsoitookoffafterit. It looked really fragile."

"Is that the truth, Harry?"

"Yes professor."

"That is not what I saw, Albus. If I may-"

"Minerva, Harry has assured me it is true. I choose to believe he would not lie." Harry shifted uncomfortably under Dumbledore’s gaze.

"I think he is leaving out one particular detail - from what I understand Madame Hooch instructed them not to fly on risk of expulsion, am I correct Potter?" sneered Professor Snape. Harry nodded.

"I am confident she did not mean in this case. I can ask her if you wish Severus, but as you know I am extremely busy and cannot leave my other duties for long."

"But he will be punished?"

"Alas, Severus, I cannot prevent you from disciplining your own students, however much I advise you not to."

"Fine. Detention, Potter. See you in my classroom Saturday at dawn." And with that he swept from the room.

"Albus, Potter caught this rememberal after a fifty-foot dive! If he were in my house he'd be on the quidditch team immediately!"

"But, Minerva, he is not in your house, and you must respect Severus' opinion. Harry, do you want to play quidditch?" Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Then you should know, tryouts for the teams are posted in the common rooms. Keep an eye out. First years are not allowed brooms of their own, and therefore rarely try out for house teams, but there are plenty of school brooms you can get from Madame Hooch. She can tell you more about the game if you wish. Go to your 

detention with Professor Snape and do what he tells you. Goodday." and with that they were dismissed. Harry turned to thank Professor Mcgonagall for sticking up for him, but she had walked right past him and was halfway down the hall. 

  



	8. Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

“...and then, he caught it, after like an 80 foot dive!” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I saw it and everythin! I even told him what the rememberal was before he went off after it!”

“You _talked_ to Harry Potter!”

“Yeah, it was no big deal, he’s just, like, a regular guy, you know? Just with, like, crazy flying abilities!”

“Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron, _Ron.”_ Fred shook his head, his twin making a face of extreme disappointment as they both looked down on their little brother. The other first year Ron had been boasting to scattered off, remembering the prefect Percy’s warnings.

“Fred, Fred, Fred, Fred, _George.”_ Ron scowled. He had been enjoying his slight fame retelling the incident, and was rather miffed at his brothers ruining everything good in his life. 

“We’re afraid you’ve become a complete and utter sycophant,” Fred explained.

“Besmirching the family name and everything” George helped. 

“Not to mention you’re a liar,” Fred added.

“Am not!”

“Are too,” said George.

“NOT!”

“ARE!” they said in unison.

“Ask anyone, I’m not!” Ron protested, close to tears and bright red from anger.

“Tsk, tsk. You know what they say...” said one of the twins. Ron’s eyes were too full of tears to notice which one it was. He didn’t particularly care. 

“LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE!” they chanted together, casting a spell Ron didn’t hear but felt when the cuffs of his pants burst into flames. He scrambled, wriggling on the floor, trying to put out the flames. He hated them. He _loathed_ them.

“Go to hell,” he choked out before running off to his bunk to sob and punch his pillow until it bled feathers.

“Well he’s a right little drama queen, eh Fred?”

“I think you’re darn right about that one, George.”

And with that, they linked arms and went off in search of Lee Jordan, there were kitchen-raiding and Slytherin-baiting plans afoot.

  



	9. Lost Without You

Harry didn't quite know where he was or how to get back to his dormitory. He wandered a bit, thinking about how it felt to be flying and how glad he was that he wasn't going to be expelled. Soon he came across the library. Funny, he'd thought he'd been going down, but the library was on the top floor. _Magic,_ he thought with a mixture of awe and annoyance. Harry had yet to be inside the library, so he peeked in. He wandered the high shelves until he stumbled across a familiar bushy head bent over a large tome.

"Hermione?"

"Harry!" she looked up in surprise, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

"I got lost."

"You didn't get expelled?"

"No, but I've get detention Saturday at dawn." He pulled a face, though he really was relieved not to be expelled.

"Well I can't say I didn't warn you,” Hermione said, sounding relieved herself. “I've got my flying lesson in two hours. But I found this book about Hogwarts - it's called Hogwarts: A History." She heaved it up to show Harry. "It's got all this fascinating stuff about Hogwarts. Did you know that the ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky?"

"Wow I never would have guessed."

"Theres no need to make fun."

"Sorry."

"Its quite alright," she sniffed.

"You don't happen to know how to get back to the Slytherin common room, do you?"

"No, I've never been. I know it's in the basement."

"I've been trying to get there, but I ended up in the library."

"Well you'll want to go down, for one thing."

"I thought I was!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She shut her book.

"You’re absolutely helpless, you know that?"

"Yes. Without you I’d be horribly lost. As I was five seconds ago."

"I’ll say. You can't even tell up from down!"

They chattered on about nothing in particular until they were in the 

basement.

"Thanks Hermione! I think I remember the way now."

"Thats good, you won't need me next time."

"Did you want to see it?"

"People don't seem to go in other houses common rooms," Hermione said hesitantly. 

"Is there a rule against it?" Harry asked.

"No. More an unspoken one. People just don't do it."

"Come on, I want to show you. It's really nice. There's books on the wall. I haven't looked at them yet but they're probably not in the library."

"Really? Ravenclaw doesn't have it's own library. Though you'd think it should. It does have lots of shelves, but it's just for things people checked out from the library. And those are in the dormitories."

With that Harry led the way to the common room. He said the password at the barrier and stepped through, letting Hermione in afterwards. She ran to look at the books.

"You're right! These aren't library books! 'How to Climb the Social Ladder to the Ministry of Magic,' 'Manipulation Without Curses: How to Get People on Your Side the Muggle Way,' 'Dirty Tricks for a Quick Fix,' Harry these don't seem very educational."

"Well maybe that's why they're not in the library."

"I don't condone these. They seem very underhanded."

"I told you I hadn't looked at them," Harry shrugged.

"'Twenty Foolproof Disguises and Their Antidotes,' that seems useful actually."

"See they aren't all bad," Harry said. "Worthwhile?"

"Yeah..." Hermione said distractedly.

"Hey - you're not a Slytherin! How'd you get in here?" cried an older girl with stringy dark hair.

"She's with me, it's okay," said Harry.

"You don't bring in Ravenclaw’s, kid. She learns our password, they all start coming in and stealing stuff."

"I'm not going to steal anything!" Hermione cried indignantly.

"Oh yeah?" asked the older girl, "what's that in your hand? Isn't that our book?"

"I'm not stealing it!"

"No you're just stealing our knowledge."

"I didn't know she wasn't allowed in, we're first years" Harry said quickly. "She didn't want to come but I wanted to show her the books. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

Hermione gathered her stuff quickly and rushed out of the common room.

"Hey, you’re Harry Potter."

"Yes"

"Your little stunt got my father life in Azkaban I'm going to kill you you little-"

 

"Hey. You got a problem Pansy?"

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter!"

"Yeah so?"

"It's his fault my father-"

"No Pansy, your father got caught. He was messy and he got caught. He deserved what he got for being careless. Come on Potter."

Malfoy steered Harry to the boy’s dormitory, leaving the older girl gaping after them.

 

"Draco, what does she mean it was my fault?"

"Don’t listen to her, she's just crazy."

"But I want to know why."

"You know what happened when You-Know-Who and you met, right?"

"Yeah, Hagrid told me."

"Ha! He can speak?"

"Hey! Hagrid’s really wonderful. He bought me my owl and took me out of the Dursley’s!"

"Whatever. Anyway, after that, the ministry was looking for people that were in league with him. Anyone smart hid, claimed magical manipulation, or sold out as many of the others as they could. Only idiots remained loyal to someone who was gone and powerless."

"So her father was working with Voldemort?"

Malfoy flinched. 

"You’re not supposed to say the name, Potter!"

"Sorry."

"Whatever. Yeah, he was caught with things that incriminated him, then wouldn't give anyone else up. My father gave loads of names."

"Your father worked with You-Know-Who?"

"Yeah. Well, he said was under a curse, though, so he didn't really want to do those things. But I think he did. I think he thought You-Know-Who was going to win. No one predicted you," Malfoy grinned.

"But Vol- You-Know-Who was bad. He was killing people."

"True. But you know who he didn't kill? His followers. Best way to stay alive at the time." Malfoy shrugged.

"But what he was doing was wrong!" Harry protested.

"Well he wanted to get rid of mudbloods, so that wasn't bad. Stupid to kill so many pure-bloods too though. Better to just get elected minister and just say - oop, new law, no mudbloods. End of story. No muss no fuss no blood." Draco clapped his hands together like he was washing them.

"Why do you hate mudbloods so much?" asked Harry. "They seem fine."

"Ugh this again," Draco groaned. "They take stuff that belongs to wizards. They get a spot in Hogwarts, a wizard or witch doesn't. They get a job in the ministry, same thing. It overpopulates the Wizarding world, which needs to be small to be hidden."

"Hm." Harry thought. "But if they're born with magic they can't do much about it. Maybe magical parents could teach you how to control your powers, but muggles just can't. They don't know anything. It's almost more important for them to come to Hogwarts. They’d be more at risk to expose magic if they stayed with their families, if it’s so important it stays a secret."

Malfoy didn't seem to have a reply, and fell silent, in a sulk.

"Hey!" Harry said, just remembering what happened earlier. "What was all that with Neville’s rememberal?"

"It was just a joke," Malfoy complained, crossing his arms and pouting.

"No it wasn't, it was because I said you were pompous, right?" Malfoy made a non-committal noise.

"I didn't rat you out to Dumbledore, don't worry. And you're only pompous when you're channeling your father. The rest of the time you're only arrogant."

"Hey!" said Malfoy.

Harry laughed.

"Prat."

Harry laughed harder, and Draco couldn't keep the corner of his mouth from turning up.

"So what'd you get for flying?" Draco asked.

"A Saturday dawn detention. I'm just glad I'm not expelled,"

"Me too. And that I don't have detention."

"Yeah, only because I covered for you. Don't get used to it. 'Only idiots are loyal to someone without power'" Harry quoted, teasing.

"Shut up."

Harry laughed. It had been a long day. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He dreamed about flying.

  



	10. "You don't give random strangers jumpers!"

"So I hear Harry Potter's in your year?" said Mrs. Weasley's head in the common room fire. The Weasley’s were crowded around it, trying to conceal it from view.

"Mum, this is embarrassing! No one else's parents are talking to them through floo powder! They send letters like normal people!" Ron whined.

"Well Errol's not feeling up for a delivery, and I wanted to see my boys. I miss you so much!" Mrs. Weasley sniffled.

"Mum don't cry! Come on it's been like a week!" Ron continued to whine, thoroughly humiliated. 

A girl sniggered behind them.

"Yes Angelica our mother misses us so much she's gonna cry. Get over yourself and wonder why yours isn't crying over your empty bed every day, hm?" Fred glared at her. She stopped laughing and snapped her book closed and stalked off.

"That wasn't very nice dear," chided Mrs. Weasley, clearly pleased as punch.

"She's a friend. She’ll get over it." He shrugged.

"Oh?" asked Mrs. Weasley innocently.

"Mom! No! We play quidditch together! No! Ugh! You've given me nightmares I'm not going to sleep tonight!" he shuddered. 

Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes at her son’s dramatics.

"Alright, whatever you say. So Ron I hear Harry Potter’s in your year? Isn't that exciting!"

"Not really. He's in Slytherin. I've talked to him like once, why should I care?"

"Don’t you know what he did?"

"Of course I do! Everyone does! That’s what famous means, Mum!" Ron sulked.

"You should say hi to him. Maybe I'll knit him a jumper - poor soul, no parents." she clucked.

"Mom! Don't do that! We don't know him! And he’s in _Slytherin!_ "

"Oh but now you'll have an excuse. I'll knit him one for Christmas how bout that?”

"NO!" cried Ron. "You don’t give random strangers jumpers, especially if they aren’t in your house! Your jumpers are ugly and no one likes them, and Harry Potter would laugh in my face because of how hideous they are.”

"Oh well in that case you won't be getting one," Mrs. Weasley sniffled, hurt, and left the flames.

"Look what you did! You made Mum cry you dumb prat!" George poked Ron hard on the chest so he fell back into the chair.

"I didn't mean to," he sniffled.

"Well you're gonna gave to fix it. Send her an owl. And be quick about it or were gonna be cold this year." Ron stuck out his bottom lip.

"Your old jumper fit you?" demanded Fred.

"No..." whined Ron. 

"Then get writing you git! Tell her about when you talked to Potter, anything! Just get her to knit." George shoved parchment and a quill and ink at his brother so the ink spilled all over Ron’s pajama bottoms. Percy seemed to be elsewhere as he wandered off without a word.

"I think Perce fancies someone."

"I think you're right George"

"You wanna mess with him?"

"Do I ever! I swear, sometimes it's like we’re the same person!"

Then Ron was left alone with ink splattered bottoms and an unwritten letter. He sighed and got to work. 

_"Dear mum, I love your jumpers. They're very warm. I just don't like maroon. Or the letters. I know my name. But I love your jumpers. When I grow up and have kids I'll show them all my jumpers through the years growing up because they're so wonderful. I'll give one to Harry Potter and talk to him this week. We have potions together. Love, your loving son, Ron."_

He sent it with one of the school owls, then set about trying to clean his pants and dreading potions the next day. He had to talk to a Slytherin. Not just any Slytherin, Harry Potter. He gulped. This ink was not coming out without a spell. He gave up and went to bed. The other time he hadn’t had to look Harry Potter in the face, and just responded on instinct. But he’d have to seek him out. And talk to him. And he’d probably be with the evil blond boy. It took Ron a long time to get to sleep.

  



	11. New Partner

"Potter. Malfoy. I don't want you working together anymore."

"What? Professor why?"

"Because he's a bad influence on you, Draco. You're a good student, but Potter here thinks he can just skate along on fame alone without putting in the work. Other teachers might reward that behaviour, but I will not treat him any differently than another student."

"I don't expect special treatment!" Harry said hotly, glaring at Snape.

"Potter, this is a private discussion between Malfoy and I."

"Yeah, but everyone can hear you!" said Harry hotly.

"Detention. Dusk. Saturday."

"What? _Why?"_ Harry gaped at his teacher in outrage.

"For interrupting and insolence. Do you want to make it a full day?"

"No Professor Snape."

"You!" Snape rounded on a nearby Gryffindor. You're working with Potter. Malfoy, find another partner that's not going to distract you."

 

 

Ron had been about to introduce himself to Harry when Snape had gone on his tirade. There was still ten more minutes before class, so he'd thought he'd be safe, at least from Snape. He'd been very wrong.

"Hi, I'm-"

"No need to introduce yourself. Red hair and handmedown robes - you must be a Weasley," sneered Malfoy.

"Hi. Ignore him, he's just mad at Snape. I am too, but it's not your fault. You are?" Harry smiled warmly as Malfoy sulked in the background.

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you. I guess we'll be working together from now on. See you later, Draco! You'd better go find a partner before ten after." 

Malfoy huffed angrily. He rounded on Crabbe. 

“Goyle, get lost. Crabbe, don’t knock anything over,” and with that he started on that day’s assignment, angrily chopping and measuring with a controlled, seething rage. Harry thought he could see small yellow sparks coming off the ends of Draco’s hair, but he blinked and refocused on his new partner.

Crabbe watched Goyle try and fail to find a new partner, feeling sorry for his friend, but also superior because Malfoy had picked him. Goyle ended up working with Neville, who had been getting by without a partner for the past week unnoticed, and very badly. Goyle, though, was absolutely no help to him, and actually made things worse by making him even more nervous than he was already. 

 

Harry smiled warmly at Ron, who smiled awkwardly back. 

“Yeah, I have no idea what to do. Draco really gets this stuff, I just followed his directions.”

“Well I guess we’re evenly matched. Seamus wasn’t, like, great or anything, but he was pretty good at following written directions.”

“I guess that’s where we start, then?”

“I guess so.”

They both pored over the directions, debating the meaning of certain instructions, without a real conclusion on what they meant exactly. They’d gotten a couple of the ingredients in when Harry looked up and saw Draco’s furious focus and it’s reward. Well, he supposed Snape was right, he had been distracting Draco, as he was almost done his potion. And it wasn’t making the odor of rotten eggs like Harry’s and Ron’s was. 

“So, uh, my Mum might knit you a jumper for Christmas, just a heads up.”

“Why would she do that? I’ve never met her,” Harry was genuinely shocked at this admission. Ron’s ears turned pink, and he didn’t look up from the cauldron. He blamed his discomfort on his ridiculous mother. 

“She just does stuff like that,” he muttered.

“ “Hm." Harry didn't quite know what to make of that, but he nodded and kept chopping the wormroot. 

 

"Ah, Malfoy, I see my decision has been effective. Good work you two. Ah, Potter, Weasley, your true colours show at last when you aren't hiding behind a more competent class member. That certainly is foul." Snape chuckled as Ron and Harry coloured in embarrassment and anger. 

"Draco, stay behind a moment, I'd like to show you a more advanced potion that the second years are doing on this theme, I think it will be more your level. Potter, Weasley, I want 5 feet on the reasons why your potion failed today on my desk tomorrow. Morning."

Harry gaped at Ron. They had never had so much homework to complete so quickly. They gathered their things in shocked silence, and hurried out.

Ron turned away and headed towards the stairs leading up to the Gryffindor common room, thinking that was the end of his communication with the famous Harry Potter for the day, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, we’ve both got the same assignment, did you want to work on it together? I definitely need the help,” Harry said.

“Oh, uh, sure,” Ron said, startled. “Where? You can’t come up to our common room...” He wasn’t sure, though, they _hated_ Slytherins, but Harry was sort of different maybe because he was famous and all.

“Yeah I know, I learned about that unwritten rule the hard way. How about the library?”

“The library? Uh, I don’t know where that is yet.”

“I do, I got lost and found it, follow me!” And Harry rushed off with Ron behind him.


	12. A Nightmare With No Friends

Hermione had near set up shop in the library. She was smart, like the Ravenclaws, but sometimes her eagerness to learn was met with scorn and discomfort. They seemed to like to have an air of knowing things, but didn’t like being proven wrong or asked questions. And Hermione asked a lot of questions. But books were very good at giving answers. Much better than people. Though they didn’t always give _all_ the answers. The librarian Madam Pince was starting to get irritated with her, even though she made sure to whisper every question and put everything back just as it was. 

Questions made people nervous, that was always true even in the muggle world. Maybe even more so. At least Professor Flitwick seemed to like her. They’d had charms with the Gryffindors, and she was the first one to make her feather levitate! Even though the Ravenclaws all had study groups and had been working on it in advance (and she wasn’t allowed in the study groups because no one liked her). 

She’d tried to help one of the Gryffindor boys who was doing it completely wrong (like everyone) because he seemed cute and lost, like a puppy, but he completely blew her off. As he was leaving she heard him call her a “nightmare” and say it was no wonder she didn’t have any friends. She was so angry she could have cried, but instead she brushed past him (to let him know he did _not_ get away with being so horrid), and circled back towards the classroom from a different angle.

Back in the classroom, she asked Professor Flitwick what about the swish and flick motion and intonation helped, and he’d talked for hours about the intricacies of charm work, and she’d listened attentively. Hermione had made note of the things (and there were many) she hadn’t understood, and was now looking them up in the library.

When she asked to find books on theoretical-physical manipulation of air waves  in triangular charmwork, please, Madame Pince raised an eyebrow and informed her these things were usually not taken out until fifth year at the earliest.

“Yes, well, Professor Flitwick mentioned them in class in relation to the levitation spell Wingardium Leviosa, and I wanted to know more. I’m sure I won’t understand a lot, but I’d like to see it all the same, thank you,” she had replied, and the librarian begrudgingly gave her directions to the area in the Charms section where she “might” be able to find it. 

Hermione claimed a chair by the window (it had the best lighting) by hovering with a giant stack of books, tapping her feet, and sighing loudly. The older students glared at her, but she glared right back. 

“Let’s get out of here, girls, this Ravenclaw freak is giving me the creeps,” said the sixth year Slytherin, knocking Hermione and her stack of books over and laughing. She said “I’m so sorry” sarcastically as she walked off.

“Probably a mudblood,” one of her friends said as they stalked out. Madam Pince wasn’t looking. 

Hermione then dusted herself off and organized the books along the table within reach and settled in. She made note of the word “mudblood” to look up later - she didn’t know what it meant, but she would. She knew it was awful by the girl’s tone, and was struggling not to cry for the second time that day. But she wouldn’t let herself be very upset until she knew exactly what they meant. Anyway, she had triangular charms to read about. 

 

She had gotten through the fourth book on the table, and had been there for approximately four hours when her chair was knocked into. She looked up, blinking, reentering the world of physical things she had been so desperately trying to escape while trying to understand (she understood the irony). 

“Oh, sorry! Uh...Hermione!” She looked towards the voice.

“Oh! Harry! Hi!” She recognized him, grinning, glad to see someone who wasn’t horrible for once in this generally icky (apart from the triangular charms) day. 

“Hi! I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, what are you reading?”

“Oh, just stuff about charms, just for fun, I really like Professor Flitwick, he’s very good at explaining things.” 

Harry sat down across from her, and set down a couple of his books on the table.

“Oh, what have you got?” She asked, scrambling up in her seat, heaving the heavy book off her lap and leaning over to look.

“I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong in potions today. I’ve got to write 5 feet on it - by tomorrow morning!”

“Oh goodness! Which potion, maybe I can help? I spent some time reading about potions earlier this week, Professor Snape doesn’t comment much on my potions except to say “textbook” very condescendingly, or tell me very vaguely that I’ve made a mistake - but not what. So I wanted to know the what.”

“It’s -”

“Hey, Harry, I found another book on wormroot...” Ron stumbled in, but trailed off, looking at horror at Hermione.

“Great, Ron, this is Hermione, she might be able to help us-”

“Oh, is that the time? I’m sorry, Harry, I really can’t tonight, maybe another time bye.” She was gone before Harry closed his mouth, leaving all the books strewn on the table, knowing Madam Pince would know just who to blame. But she didn’t care, because she was going to cry, and she _couldn’t_ have anyone staring at her or asking her questions. She made it to the girls room just as the first sob escaped. People would know someone was crying, but they wouldn’t know who, and that would have to be enough. 

 

“I guess she had a class or something. Too bad, she knows a lot about everything, she could probably really have helped us.”

“Her? Yeah, maybe, but she’d make us know exactly how much we don’t know while doing it, wouldn’t she, little miss know it all brainiac teachers pet...” Ron muttered in a bitterly sarcastic tone. 

“Hey! Hermione’s nice! I bet you’re like Draco, hating on her just because she’s got muggles for parents! Well I’ve basically grown up the same way because I’ve never even knew her parents! So why don’t you just...just...why don’t you just bugger off!”

“Fine! Fine!” and with that, Ron threw down the books he had and walked off, then turned around and stomped back.

“Actually, you can’t have these, because I’m going to check them out, and I don’t care that you’re famous, you’re a Slytherin, and you SUCK!” And he took his books (and one of Hermione’s by mistake) up to Madam Pince. His face was bright red, and he was too sharp to Madam Pince, and got sent to Professor McGonagall.

“I can’t deduct points myself, but she sure can, and she most certainly will young man.”

And then, finally, regretting every single thing he’d said and done to get to this point while simultaneously blaming the whole thing on all Slytherins in the history of ever, he stomped out the door of the library.

 


	13. Easy as Pie

“So how was ‘more advanced lessons’ with Snape?” Harry asked sullenly as Draco walked in to their dormitory. He was trying to read about the wormroot, but was still too miffed with Ron, and confused about why everyone hated Hermione. She was bookish, but she was nice. She didn’t seem to _want_ anything from him, which was a really nice change. Draco was fine, but he was honest about associating with him solely because of his fame and house. And Ron seemed to have weird hang ups about the fame thing too. Harry wished it would just go away. 

“Well, not bad, really. He’s actually not as bad as you think, he’s just _really_ into potions. I think when people do something wrong it physically hurts him. Also, of course, a decent letter of recommendation from him could get me into a position at St. Mungo’s, so it’s best to keep on his good side.”

“Well no hope for me there.”

“No, but there’s hope for me.”

“Prat.”

“Shut up. You’re already ‘famous Harry Potter,’ what do you need to be the greatest healer of all time for?”

“True,” Harry said. He didn’t feel up to keeping the witty banter Draco liked. There was silence for a moment as Draco pulled out his homework and settled in his favourite winged armchair he had had Goyle and Crabbe drag in from the common room. He was only first year, but he was quickly commanding an insane amount of respect Harry couldn’t quite figure out. The chair was so large it dwarfed him, but when he assumed a cold, focused face it looked as though he was sitting in a throne. 

But Harry wasn’t thinking about Draco and his throne-chair. He was watching a poster someone had hung up. On it there were a few men and women flying on broomsticks, tossing a ball, and dodging each other.

“Is that...” Harry tried to remember the word, then found it “quidditch?”

Draco looked up. 

“Yeah, right, I forgot you don’t know anything. Yes, muggle-brain, that’s quidditch.”

“How does it work?”

“Well you see the ball they’re passing around? Yeah, that’s the quaffle, chasers score points through the hoops. The little black balls flying around are bludgers. There’s beaters on each team to try to hit the other team and protect their own. There’s another little gold one that the seeker catches, they basically rule the game, it ends once they’ve caught it, and their team almost always wins because it’s worth 150 points. That’s my position, when I make the team next year.”

“How can you be so sure you’ll make it?”

“Because I’m good and I’m going to make it happen.” Draco smiled with a steely glint of focus in his eye that disconcerted Harry. 

“Professor McGonagall mentioned that tryouts would be posted in the common rooms. Are you going to try out?”

“Of course. First-years never get in, but you have to know the field, know the competition. And get your name in as dedicated, make sure they recognize you the next year. But you also have to be careful not to make a prat of yourself so they don’t remember you and think “no way.” I mean, that won’t be a problem for me, of course, but obviously you’re thinking of trying out too, and I’m just looking out for you.”

“So how do I avoid making a prat of myself?” Harry asked, concerned it would happen. He wasn’t too concerned, though, recalling Professor McGonagall’s raving about his skill in catching the rememberal. 

“Well, first thing’s first, we’ve got to nick the balls and a couple brooms and practice, how else?”

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“Only if we get caught.

“But look what happened with the rememberal, the professors generally have a pretty good sight of the pitch!”

“Here’s what we do, we nick some Slytherin Quidditch team robes, dress up in them, say the team’s practicing, get Crabbe and Goyle to watch the doors and beat up anyone who doubts us. And we have to book the pitch for the team, without the team getting wind of it. Easy as pie.”

“You know, pie’s actually very difficult to make, Aunt Petunia could never get it right, but our neighbor-”

“Word of advice, Potter, no one cares about your muggle past. Here, in the real world, pie is a spell on the ingredients, and there it is. Easy as pie. And seriously if you mention anything muggle again I’m going to have to have Crabbe and Goyle beat you up.” Draco grinned. Harry wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious, but he nodded and smiled back all the same. He’d have to watch that. It wasn’t like he had another past to draw conversation from. Harry guessed he’d have to keep muggle-talk with Hermione. Hermione...he grew sad. Then he got angry. Ron was a...nope. Not worth it. He had quidditch to think about.

“So let’s do it!” He said eagerly.

“Not so fast, this is going to take a couple day’s preparation.”

Harry sighed impatiently. He wanted to be _flying_ again. It had felt so amazing, he had to get back up there. It was as though he had discovered who he _was_ that day. More so than when Hagrid had told him he was a wizard.

“So are you going to help me with this essay or not?”

Draco sighed and started explaining the potion as though it was all very obvious and Harry was making a real imposition boring him like this. It was only from the slight glint in his eye that Harry could tell that this was what Draco lived for - being superior, and having that superiority acknowledged. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I had another chapter up last night, but I've taken it down for re-working. I had a good comment noting some big problems with the chapter, and I really shouldn't have posted it right after I wrote it at 3am. Not the smartest plan. 
> 
> Let me know what you think so far! And if you ever think a chapter needs a trigger warning or rewrite, I'll be happy to oblige. Hope everyone had a good Halloween!

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, I won't update this very soon. I love this set up and I would very much like to keep working on it (and one day maybe I will) but I just haven't written anything in a long time & I no longer feel capable.


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